Sweets Dreams Are Made of These
by Anne Nonymus
Summary: After Sweets oversteps his bounds and gives Booth advice that doesn't work out, his conscience decides to give him a lesson via a strange dream where he has to answer for his misdeeds against the royal court of King Seeley and Queen Temperance.


**A/N : Don't usually do fantasy pieces, but thanks to my PM buddy mendenbar, couldn't get this idea out of my head. To those who were wondering what happened to my other stories, don't worry, haven't forgotten them. The updates should be up soon if I can fend off these plot bunnies.**

**No. I still do not own Bones or any of it's characters, but thanks for asking.**

**Sweets Dreams are Made of These**

Sweets tossed his keys on the console table by the entryway to his apartment, and a frustrated half sob fell from his lips as he watched them slide off and tumble to the floor. He waved uselessly at them and left them where they fell, locked the door behind him and trudged over to the kitchen. He slammed down the paper bag containing the Johnny Walker red that he stopped by the liquor store to get, it had been that kind of day.

Normally, he didn't drink more than just the light beer that he occasionally indulged in but after everything that happened today, he figured he needed a good stiff drink. A good manly kind of drink. The kind that a man like Booth would turn to.

He grabbed a tumbler from his cabinet and unsheathed the bottle from its brown paper wrapper, grabbing it by the belly of the bottle and feeling the heft of it in his hands. He hadn't taken a sip of this stuff since his dorm mate got him to go pub crawling for his twenty-first birthday. He had never had liquor before and hated the way that it burned at his throat making him gag, and made his eyes water. He wanted to throw up, but he also wanted to seem cooler to his more popular dorm mate. He didn't want Greg to regret taking him out so he managed to take three shots before falling off his stool. He can't remember how he managed to get home, but he did remember that he had a totally bizarre dream that night. After that, he swore off the stuff. Tonight he was breaking that vow.

His crappy day started when he had a fight with Daisy over wedding plans and she told him that she had decided to go with her cousin to Atlantic City for her Bachelorette weekend. He had been so busy that he didn't get a chance to go out for lunch. And since the Diner doesn't deliver, he had to call out to a nearby sandwich place. When his sandwich, fries and ice tea finally arrived, the restaurant screwed up his order. He wanted a pastrami on rye and instead he got ham and cheese on white, but he was so hungry he ate it anyway. The ham and cheese didn't agree with him for some reason, leaving his stomach to churn all day. Then Brennan and Booth came for their weekly appointment. That's when his bad day turned to utter crap.

He wasn't expecting them to declare that his book inspired them to proclaim their undying love for one another, but he hoped that they would at least stop regurgitating that stupid line about them being nothing more than "just partners". What totally blew him away was their admission that they had worked together before the Clio Eller case. That they initially got along and admittedly liked each other. What added a headache to the stomach troubles that had been plaguing him was their confession that they made out and considered having sex with each other. Granted, they had been drinking at the time that was considered, but still. In less than an hour they had obliterated nearly every theory he had concerning their relationship, and rendered his book about them absolute drivel. Even worse was knowing that they shared a moment, that they had a chance all those years ago and they blew it. He felt like the kid who just found out that his parents could have been married all this time, that they could have been a happy family if they hadn't screwed everything up all those years ago.

He was so exasperated and disappointed in them that he found himself overstepping his bounds again. He couldn't seem to help himself. When he asked them if the dam broke after they kissed and Brennan told him that they weren't in love, he caught the look that Booth tried to cover up. That's when he decided to take a chance and reach out to Booth. Brennan tends to hide behind nearly impenetrable walls of logic, and he figured that Booth was at least ready to admit his feelings for her. He was about to during their first case back after the surgery, that is, until Sweets stopped him. Sweets figured that they both needed to regain some normalcy before they made such a drastic change in their relationship - especially Brennan. As upset as he was at her for abandoning Booth after the surgery, he knew that she needed to feel like things were back to the way they were before she opened herself to change. Months had passed since the surgery and nothing had happened. He knew what Brennan would say about regrets, but he couldn't help but think he did the wrong thing by discouraging Booth from telling Brennan that he loved her. He decided to rectify that mistake by encouraging Booth to take a chance and tell her how he feels.

For a brief shining moment he thought he was about to witness first hand the change in their relationship. Instead, Booth turned to Brennan and asked her if she was hungry and they left. Sweets slumped back in his seat, sighed, and went to turn off his computer when he happened to glance out the window. Eyes wide, he watched as they seemed to be intently discussing something, and suddenly Booth grabbed Brennan and kissed her. Sweets couldn't even hope to contain the cheer that erupted from him, nor could he stop himself from doing a fist pump. And then he saw Brennan push Booth away. Elation turned to disappointment as he realized that he encouraged Booth to gamble his friendship and partnership with Brennan, only to be rejected. He fell back into his desk chair feeling wretched. If their partnership imploded because of this, because Brennan still wasn't able to accept the truth about their romantic potential, it would be his fault.

Now here he was, in his apartment all alone drowning his misery in whiskey. He knew that a stomach ache, a headache and hard booze wasn't the best idea he's had, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be pleasantly numb, at least for a while.

He felt his eyelids getting heavy, his motor skills sluggish, his thoughts became muddled. He looked at the bottle and was startled to see a quarter of its contents to have not so mysteriously vanished. He was able to stumble to his living room before falling face first onto his couch.

He wasn't sure how much time had elapsed since he passed out on the couch, and when he began to feel something jabbing at his ribs. He flailed out his arm, hoping to swat and perhaps eliminate the source of his annoyance, but it persisted. He finally caught something in his hands, something that was hard. Something that, since his hand could travel along it, was long. A shaft of some sort. He attempted to see how long it was by forcing his hand higher up the shaft when it was suddenly pulled away from him, and his hand fell back to the ground, and he heard a clink as his wrist slammed against something metal. It was then that he realized that his wrist was cuffed. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what was going on without having to open his eyes. His head already felt like his skull was replaced by a crystal wine glass filled with a thick liquid, and someone was rubbing a finger along the rim to make the glass sing.

With a groan, he realized that opening his eyes was going to be a necessary evil. Slowly, his eyelids flickered open, and he found that his face was pressed against strange looking reeds that smelled funny. He kind of wished that Hodgins was there, he would be able to tell him exactly what kind of reed they were and where they came from.

With a gasp, he suddenly realized that he had been abducted. He could feel the point of a sharp object against his neck, the chains that bound his hands and feet by the cuffs, and he had been forced into a supplicant position. He couldn't move his head without the point on his neck digging into it, so he had to gather all the information about the room he was in without moving his head. He looked down to see that he was clad in yellow and blue motley - what royal jesters wore to court. He looked over to his left just enough to see someone standing over him wearing a metal boot.

No wait, he thought to himself. That's not a boot, that's a Sabaton - the part of a knight's armor that covered the foot. He looked up slightly and saw that attached to the Sabaton were greaves to cover the shins of the wearer. There was even more metal as he looked up as high as he dared. He tried to regulate his breathing as the thought that he was kidnapped by some Medieval Times wannanbes for some bizarre reason. He gulped audibly as he attempted to calm himself down with the thought that Booth and Brennan were somewhere looking for him and that they would rescue him soon. He hoped.

"Your majesties, the prisoner has awakened." a decidedly female voice announced. A familiar female voice actually. "Though by your command and with one swing of my mace he shall sleep again."

"That shall not be necessary. What are the charges against this man?" asked a different female voice. Again, this one was familiar too.

"This man has been accused of treason against the King of Fili Del Fia and the Queen of Labland. For attempting to subvert the peace and the long standing alliance between these two great kingdoms. And most disturbing of all inciting dissent between the King and Queen themselves." yet another familiar voice bellowed. This time it was a man that was speaking. Wow, something must be wrong with Sweets hearing because it sounded like Hodgins.

"My King," said another male voice, a more composed one. "And the honorable Queen Temperance, might I ask that reason and calm prevail? Let us hear what he has to say in his defense. Perhaps there is naught more than just a misunderstanding amongst us all that has grown past all control."

"Let us hear what proof do you have of these crimes?" bellowed a different man. God, he knew that voice.

"Your majesties, honorable members of the court," said the first man. Holy crap, that really sounded like Hodgins. "As Royal Wizard to Queen Temperance, it has been tasked to me to uncover the source of the recent discord between my Queen, and the honorable King Seeley. Through the several inquiries that I have made, I've discovered that it is none other than Lance the court jester at the root of the antipathy between our monarchs. Here with us today, are those who have stepped forward to attest to these charges."

"What the hell is-" muttered Sweets, attempting to get up before his progress was halted by a foot on his back pushing him down.

"Silence. You have not been permitted to speak by the King or Queen." maintained the female voice beside him. Oddly enough it sounded like Cam. "Your treasonous lips have already caught the attention of the Royal Wizard of the Queen. He often sees shadows where there is only light, yet when speaking of you I would agree with his assessment."

"And I would counsel you to remain on your knees, or lose your head." ordered the female voice on the other side of him, the one that held the sharp point against his neck. Her voice reminded him of an angry Angela. "It may not seem so at this moment, but fortune smiles upon you for if the decision were mine we would have dispensed with the formalities and dispatched you where you were found."

Sweets started to panic, when he realized that his last waking memory was that of passing out on his couch. Really, what were the odds of a bunch of medieval era recreationists going crazy and abducting him because of some crime that he couldn't remember committing. He was probably just dreaming. Granted it was a very vivid, very painful dream, but whiskey tended to do that to him. That was why he didn't usually drink the stuff.

He supposed that he could just wake himself up but he found this particular dream fascinating. Psychologically speaking, he wondered what message his subconscious was trying to convey through his dream. There was only one way to find out - play along.

"Your majesties, may I address the court and the charges against me?" muttered Sweets, his face pressed up against the rushes that were spread all over the floor.

"You my rise, tho only to your knees!" ordered the King. "You remain a prisoner of this court and will be treated as such. And speak plainly. If you attempt to to confound me with your words once more I will call upon my guards to rid me of your presence."

Sweets got up slowly, his joints aching. When he finished stretching he stifled the "whoa" that threatened to escape from his lips. He was in the throne room of a great castle. To one side was a very irritated looking Cam in full plate armor. On his other side was Angela in more decorative armor, and from the smirk on her face she enjoyed seeing him shackled. A stern looking Booth glared at him from his throne, and even with a crown and wearing tights the guy looked intimidating. Brennan sat on the throne beside him looking regal and elegant, a true queen. Before he thought too much on the subject of her beauty, he looked away, feeling the King's glare intensify.

"You find his speech confounding?" asked the Queen. "His manner of speech resembles mine."

"He speaks to hear his own voice and cause me to be dumbfounded by his words," replied the King. "My Queen, you speak to enlighten me with your knowledge. It is a different manner all together."

"Truly?" asked the Queen as she blushed. "If that is true, then there are many subjects on which I would gladly illuminate for you."

"Verily," the King smiled as his gaze softened upon turning to her. "I await with eagerness for the education you would provide."

The royals seemed to be lost in the moment with each other - what a surprise, thought Sweets and snorted. He realized what a mistake that was when all eyes in the room turned to him, and none of the gazes were friendly.

"My apologies your majesties," he squeaked. "By your will, might I ask to hear how these charges against me have been made? What attestations have been found against me?"

The King and Queen nodded, and Hodgins, who had been standing beside Brennan, grinned knowingly.

"Oh your majesties," said Hodgins, practically rubbing his hands together. "With eagerness I shall provide the evidence you require to verify the guilt of this wretch before you."


End file.
